


Destiny Pentober Day 10 - Deicide (Defend)

by Legacy_Fireteam



Series: Destiny Pentober 2020 - Legacy Fireteam [10]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Festival of the Lost (Destiny), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legacy_Fireteam/pseuds/Legacy_Fireteam
Summary: Aporia braves the chill of an especially vicious winter evening to meet with a rather shady associate in hopes of brokering a deal.
Relationships: Male Guardian & Male Guardian
Series: Destiny Pentober 2020 - Legacy Fireteam [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950664





	Destiny Pentober Day 10 - Deicide (Defend)

# Day 10 - Deicide (Defend)

###  _Written by Advocate_

After the last stand of the Traveler against its ancient enemy, it created a shattered legacy in its dying breath. The Ghosts, numbering in hundreds of thousands, fled to all corners of the universe and began to raise the dead with unspeakable powers. The people knew nothing of what to call these walking corpses made new, save what they were; “Risen.” The Risen were powerful, and power combined with desperation and confusion leads to a strong recipe for violence. They became more antagonistic, powerful Warlords taking swaths of land for themselves and controlling the last vestiges of humanity with an iron fist. Those with power ruled, those without it perished, and the wastelands of Earth grew harsher every day. 

Mother nature cares not for the passage of time, nor for changes in the status quo of humanity. Winter raged on all the same, and the people suffered for it every year. It had been a bitter day, evening bleeding into night as the temperature plummeted and civilians retreated to the warmth of their homes. There was one who refused to remain safe and sound inside; a lone Hunter had made his way up an icy ridge to an overpass, the boundary between one territory and another. He held in his gloved hand a pistol, blazing with fire, the weapon’s gentle hum heating up the snow around him into a quick, cool melt of warm water. While he busies himself with the gun of flame, another man strides towards him, wind whipping around his robes in a chilling flurry. The man pulls his coat tighter around his chest and glows with the same low hum, the edges of his body melting away the snow at his feet. A Risen, clearly. The man’s name is Amadeus, and he is a gentleman of great skill, ambition...and greed. He approaches the Hunter confidently, his gait not betraying a speck of the cold. The first Risen looks up at him with something resembling recognition, and speaks with a voice made of gravel. 

“So, you’ve finally accepted my invitation. I didn’t think you would come. Let’s talk.”   
The Warlock (as he clearly was) responded with a voice smooth as the silk of his expensive cuffs.

“I’m just going to cut to the chase,  _ friend _ . I’d like to suggest an alliance between the two of us. Combining our settlements into a larger territory that spreads across to both sides of the ridge.”

The Hunter cocked his head lightly to the side, hands keeping up their gentle rhythm on his weapon. He let the Warlock continue.   
“We’d share in all the riches from both sides, get our people sorted and together in a way that’s easier for both of us to keep track of. Mutual benefits, mutual safety. Both sides win out.”   
The Warlock settled back on his heels, arms open wide in a gesture of goodwill and cheer that reeked of lies.   
“I’m unarmed, friend. Nothing to be afraid of. Why don’t you speak up?”   
  
“Alright, Warlock. How do you propose we keep everyone alive during this process? With the vast range of our territories, we won’t have enough manpower to cover the whole of the space. They’ll die in the travel, die in the spaces we can’t control, die in the firefights we’d normally have to handle. You’re not thinking of them, you’re only thinking of yourself. Thinking like the snake that you are. Have you heard from the scouts you sent into my settlement anytime lately. I’ve heard of you, Amadeus. Many refugees come to my territory, and many have stories of your violence. You take and take from the places you find, convincing others of the same spiel and robbing them blind, stabbing them in the back and leaving their people to follow or die. I’m no saint. I have to turn as many people away as I let in, but you haven’t a merciful bone in your body. There’s no rhyme or reason to your violence, and you bleed avarice like a stuck pig. You come at me with open arms, but I can feel the malicious intent radiate off you. You treat yourself like a savior, a god of love, but truth be told? You’re lower than the slush that clings to my boot.”

Amadeus sneers at the Hunter, a look so bloodthirsty it would be right at home on a sabretooth tiger. He waves his hand in a signal, looking to the edges of the storm still raging around both men, but not a sound could be heard, nor motion seen, anywhere in the wind and snow. The man across from him turned on his heel to begin his trek back to the village he protected, but when he saw the attempt at a signal, he grinned beneath his mask and turned to face his well-dressed foe.   
“You need to do a better job of hiding your men, Amadeus. For an unarmed Warlock, you sure have a lot of guns up here.”   
Amadeus went for his own concealed pistol with a cry of rage that echoed across the ice, all the way down to the houses below. The noise was drowned out in seconds by the surefire  _ crack _ of the Hunter’s pistol, whirled around and fired at a speed too fast for the naked eye. Amadeus held onto his hand and doubled over in pain, wincing against the burning sensation as his pistol fell with a muted  _ thump _ into the freshly fallen snow. He looked to his attacker, already turned and back on his way, and forced out a promise through gritted teeth.

“You’ll pay for this, Aporia...I swear you will.”

“Tell that to Radegast. The Iron Lords are already on your tail, and my tip will bring them here faster than you can do a damned thing about it. You’d better hope that your words do much more to convince them than they did to convince me, or you might have to get ready to kiss your Ghost goodbye.”

The Warlock shuddered, then stumbled to his feet and broke into a dead sprint, tripping over his now-sullied robes as he dashed off into the white expanse. Aporia chuckled, and pulled his scarf tighter around his neck.

It would be a long walk back.


End file.
